


Red

by kaibasetos



Series: Colors [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibasetos/pseuds/kaibasetos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've only felt religion when I've lied with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, Kaiba's companion piece is finished! I'm sorry for the wait between the two parts. I really wanted to explore writing the _exact_ same scenario and thought process from two different perspectives, so it took a while to get it just right. If you haven't already, I'd suggest reading [Blue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7683274) either before or after reading this for the full effect. Enjoy!

Kaiba comes to the conclusion that if you ever asked him _why Jounouchi_ , he wouldn’t have an answer.

It’s not a feeling that can be given a logical explanation, not a feeling that can be confined to something so strict and guided as reason. He has no concept of when the habit of regarding Jounouchi as someone who was not worthy of a moment of his attention transformed into taking notice of and admiring every stubborn and foolish development Jounouchi made. He has no concept of when the idea that Jounouchi was someone he needed to keep at arm’s length with snide insults and contemptuous gestures gave way to enjoying the fiery manner with which Jounouchi reacted to them, reacted to him. He has no concept of when the word _love_ first crossed his mind -- if it even did, or if it was more of a choice, something he made a conscious decision to accept.

He just knows it happened slowly, then suddenly, the way the sun bursts dawn into morning and wipes the stars clean from the sky.

He watches Jounouchi read, his gaze falling on golden hair and dark eyes and easy shoulders and rough hands, and he clenches his jaw. It’s not just one thing about Jounouchi, it’s everything. It’s Jounouchi himself, so artlessly stunning that looking like him is like catching a glimpse of something heavenly. It’s Jounouchi’s lazy and carefree way of handling things, the habit of letting hardship roll right off his shoulders, the breath of fresh air and sense of contentment he carries with him wherever he goes. It’s Jounouchi’s dangerous spark and willingness to fight for everything he believes in, the manner in which he reacts to any opposition with his fists raised and his head down, ready to go to war with any obstacle that rests between him and where his love lies. Jounouchi always rises to any new challenge fearless and oblivious to danger, like nothing is more important to him than proving himself, and it’s one of the most injudicious, beautiful things Kaiba has ever seen.

Jounouchi is red. Red with the warmth of his soothing eyes, red with the flickering light of the flame he leaves blazing in his wake, red with the beat of his heart that keeps him alive and fighting.

He thinks back to when they first met, when Jounouchi took his condescension as a dare and accepted it immediately with a threat in his throat and a promise in his words, and thinks of how he was taken by him from that very first moment. His interest took different forms in the beginning; it was detached, it was frigid, it was cunning, it was provocative. He was enraptured by Jounouchi from the minute they locked eyes, and he needed a challenge. He wanted to push Jounouchi away, wanted to press him to his limits, wanted to see if Jounouchi would tear across every mile of distance he put between them. He knew if anyone could coax out the recklessness in Jounouchi, it would be him.

He wasn’t prepared for how correct he was, and, more importantly, he wasn’t prepared for how entangled he would become in Jounouchi. He never anticipated that Jounouchi would learn him so keenly and so eagerly, barrel through the cruel and labyrinthine walls of his defenses to latch nails in his chest and refuse to let go. He never knew there was such softness beneath the aggressive exterior, such compassion beneath the quarrel, shades of red beneath the gold. There was so much more to him than Kaiba expected, and it only made him crave every inch of new feeling he could discover.

He never thought he’d see Jounouchi fight for him. He never realized how much it would mean.

It’s impossible not to love him after seeing him at his best.

His veins burn with it, sometimes, the force of caring for someone so impulsive and passionate as Jounouchi. It’s not just in the way Kaiba thought he knew him, rash and relentless, but in the way he has come to know him. It’s in the way Jounouchi never turns away from him even in his most terrible moments, always pressing forward and closer, so dedicated that Kaiba seems to be the only thing on the planet that matters to him. It’s in the way he kisses Kaiba like he’s trying to worship, trying to leave holiness on his tongue, trying to remind him that he’s worthy and wanted. It’s in the way Jounouchi’s weight feels so comforting on top of him, the way he murmurs Kaiba’s name like nothing else has ever tasted sweeter in his mouth, the way he touches Kaiba as though the act itself is a secret you whisper in the dark.

It’s in the way he looks at Kaiba, sometimes like he’s such a pain it’s unbelievable and sometimes like he’s a god.

Kaiba’s work is interrupted by Jounouchi beckoning him to sleep, and he can’t bring himself to argue. Jounouchi is too kind for his bitter worn exhaustion, too selfless and too fond, and when he feels Jounouchi’s knuckles graze against his cheek his gaze involuntarily turns to confusion. Jounouchi never stops looking after him, never stops reassuring him, never stops seeking to quiet the demons that make his mind haunted house torment. Kaiba doesn’t deserve this, and he never stops to consider that he might; that it may be just as easy as allowing Jounouchi to treasure him. He doesn’t grasp why Jounouchi would want to. Jounouchi, who lets fondness and adoration drip from his lips as if they’re a language he’s spoken his entire life. Jounouchi, who is so open and boundless with his love in a way Kaiba can never be.

Kaiba has learned at this point not to expect much from others, not to let himself be shaken by the idea that they might find him too difficult to deal with. Jounouchi never thinks that of him, never wants to leave even when given the opportunity. It’s a foreign concept.

Jounouchi is the most sacred thing he’s ever come across.

When they lie together in the dim light of late night, Kaiba’s grip in Jounouchi’s shirt says please don’t leave. His body says he wants this, wants Jounouchi, wants the boy of sunlight and bruised knuckles who has taught him how to breathe again. His eyes say yearning. His lips say control. His touch says there’s nothing he needs more than Jounouchi, more than the wild and the fight and the devotion and the fervor, more than the early mornings and the interlaced fingers and the way Jounouchi feels pressed against him. More than the red.

His thoughts say _I love you_ , and there is no definition, no logic, no _why_.

He doesn’t need to search for one.

He chose to be here.


End file.
